


Like Hope

by studiojude



Category: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff and Smut, M/M, The boys are being cute and in love and I can't deal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:28:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25142386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/studiojude/pseuds/studiojude
Summary: Set as a continuation of the final scene of the book. Alex shows Henry his childhood home and tells him about his college plans; sex and emotions follow.
Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor
Comments: 9
Kudos: 219





	Like Hope

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, folks! Seeing as I'm on a RWRB fanfic writing kick lately, I wanted to write a continuation of the final scene of RWRB where Henry gets to see Alex's childhood home. Throw in some banter, some sex, and a lot of fluffy emotions, and we are all in for a good time. I hope you all enjoy, thank you so much for reading!

The sound of the lock clicking open echoed loudly in the dark house. Alex felt a surge of something deep in his chest: excitement? Nerves? Knowing himself more than likely it was a confusing combination of the two. He turned to the man next to him, Prince Henry,  _ his  _ Henry, and gestured dramatically out in front of him, 

“After you, your  _ Highness _ ” giving his boyfriend a shit eating grin. Henry just rolled his eyes and stepped over the threshold. 

As Alex followed Henry into his childhood home, he was overwhelmed with a rush of emotions. It looked the same as he remembered, more or less. Sure, most of the appliances were packed up, the furniture covered in white sheets, old family photos taken off the wall. And sure, he was older; more reckless, had more to fight for, hopelessly in love with the last person he expected, but it felt the same in his  _ chest.  _ For the briefest of moments, he could have sworn that it even smelled like it used to: his dad’s cooking, the shampoo his mom and June used to share, his old lacrosse equipment that had been banished to the closet by the front door. 

He finally caught Henry’s eyes and gave him a softer smile, the real one reserved only for each other. Henry had been leaning on the arch of the living room doorway, watching Alex fondly. 

“C’mere” Alex said softly, unable to fully break the quietness of the house with his voice. It felt holy, like being alone in a church. When Henry reached him, Alex threw his arms around the nape of his neck and buried his face in the crook, inhaling the mixture of expensive cologne and Earl Grey. Tonight had been...a lot, in the best way possible. Another surge of giddy anxiety shot through him. He was  _ here _ , in his old home, with his  _ boyfriend,  _ just hours after his mom had won her second term as the president. He pressed a soft kiss to the underside of Henry’s jaw and pulled away slightly. He felt so full of, well, everything. He wanted to share it.

“Want a tour?” he asked. 

Henry’s face lit up as he answered, 

“Absolutely.” 

Alex couldn’t love him any more than in this moment, as he moved room to room, flicking on the lights and pointing out things from his childhood. The spot where he and June had run around the kitchen island too quickly and June had slipped, knocking her head into the wood of the baseboard and denting it slightly. The small bit of wall where his mom had begun tracking their height, only to forget once she had gotten thrown into her work and was hardly home. The spot under the big bay window where he used to hide his little manifestos with all the g’s written backwards, lists of his classmates strengths and weaknesses, and maps of the U.S. that he had colored in on election nights to track which states went Democrat or Republican. 

While there was really no piece of Alex that Henry didn’t already know, it felt so fucking good to show him all of this. An unboxing, of sorts. Two homes finally coming together. 

They made their way down the hall, stopping right in front of the door that would open up onto Alex’s old bedroom. When they finally went in, Alex was struck with how much it still looked the same as he remembered. The too many lacrosse trophies that had once littered the shelves that were now shoved into cardboard boxes, the bed in the right corner shoved up between a window and the wall, an old beaten up desk beside it that had once housed piles and piles of papers and books. There used to be a plethora of posters hung up but they had been taken down long ago, however some of the tape that had been used to display them still clung to the light grey walls. He hadn’t turned on the light yet, so the gauzy white curtain that covered the window filtered in the pale light of the moon, washing the room in silvery shadows. Henry came up behind him, wrapping his arms around Alex’s waist and settling his chin on Alex’s shoulder. Alex leaned into it, savoring the warmth the other man radiated. Henry truly was the sun, even in the darkest of rooms. 

“Thank you for showing me all of this” Henry whispered in his ear. Alex shivered at the light touch of Henry’s lips brushing against his skin and turned to face him.

“Thank you for coming with me. I didn’t realize quite how much I needed it,” Alex murmured, tilting his face up and meeting Henry’s lips. He knew that Henry didn’t just mean showing him the house and the memories, he meant all of Alex as well. 

The prince kissed Alex back with just as much fervor as he was getting, and they both melted into the sweet drag and slide of lips and the sharing of bated breath when they pulled away. Alex squinted impishly at Henry, a small smirk appearing on his face.

“Want me to fuck you on my old bed?” 

Henry grinned, looking like he couldn’t believe his luck, and barely got out an “oh God, yes,” before Alex was kissing him again. Riding the high from the homecoming and the electoral victory, the two crashed in a tangle of clothes and limbs on Alex’s old twin sized bed; the only sounds breaking the sepulchral silence were the soft rustle of clothes being removed and the small intakes of breath as fingers found their way. Henry, clad only in his boxers, slid up the mattress and propped himself up against the wall as Alex kissed his way down his chest. Alex would never get tired of this, he realized. Never get tired of the soft flush that spread up Henry’s chest and dusted his cheeks, never get tired of Henry gasping out “sweetheart” as Alex takes him into his mouth, never get tired of how  _ whole  _ Alex feels when they’re together. 

They carry on like this for minutes, hours, days, Alex isn’t sure. Time doesn’t seem important when Henry is underneath him looking at him like  _ that _ . Henry reaches down and lightly squeezes Alex’s shoulder with his left hand, his right is carded through Alex’s curls.

“Love, if you carry on like this I won’t be able to last much longer, and that just isn’t allowed right now.” Alex gets it. He needs to be closer to Henry, too. He makes his way back up Henry’s chest and kisses him thoroughly, knowing how much Henry gets off on tasting himself in Alex’s mouth. He pulls back suddenly.

“Shit, I didn’t bring any lube.” He mutters, sitting back up and running his hands through his hair. Henry has the decency to look slightly sheepish before he says

“...I have some in my right pocket.”

Alex, not expecting that answer, bursts out laughing. 

“Do you ever  _ not  _ carry tiny things of lube with you?!” He says as he gets off the bed and goes over to where Henry’s pants lay on the ground, “was this something you started doing before or after we got together?” 

Henry just lobs his balled up boxers at his boyfriend in response. Alex dodges the throw neatly, smirking, before climbing back on top of Henry armed with the lube and a condom. Moments later, as they slot together perfectly, Alex marvels at the fact that he can have  _ this.  _ All of it. He can have who he was, who he is, his future with Henry. It’s nothing like he expected, and yet he can’t imagine ever being without it. He used to be so worried about his legacy, about fitting in and being enough for everyone, that he never realized his legacy would just be simply this: being who he is. By being his authentic self, by loving and being loved by Henry, by embracing his Texas roots and his Mexican roots, he would carve out a place in history for himself with Henry by his side. 

When they both come down, sticky and breathless, it’s almost morning. Henry moves over on the bed so that Alex can lay down beside him, laying his head on the other’s chest and tracing little shapes on his warm skin. Henry hums in contentment, kissing the top of Alex’s head and the bridge of his nose tenderly. Alex feels like he could cry, but he doesn’t. He looks up at his boyfriend and says

“I took the LSAT this past summer, I got a really good score. I think…” he trails off briefly, almost scared to say his wants out loud, before continuing.

“I  _ want _ to apply to NYU for next fall, to become a lawyer.” 

Henry is silent, so Alex glances up to gage his reaction. He’s met with an adoring look on Henry’s face and a warm hand cupping his cheek.

“I think you’d be perfect at that, my love. So you’d be living in New York, hm? Good thing you have a ridiculously in-love-with-you boyfriend who just so happens to have bought a brownstone there.” He half teases. Alex smiles back, a bit of the tension leaving his chest. It felt good hearing Henry want to live with him, too. Not that he had any doubts, but still. 

“I’ll only live with you if you promise not to try to do the laundry. And if you promise to try to cook dinner too often because I don’t think you or I have fully recovered from the pasta incident and I really don’t--” 

They fall back into their familiar banter, all loved up and full of possibility. Alex can finally identify the feeling that bloomed in his chest the moment he unlocked the front door. 

It feels like a beginning, it feels like hope. 


End file.
